


At the bottom

by official-stallison (Kriz)



Series: The city is at war [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Isaac Lahey/Danny Mahealani, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, POV Allison, POV Cora, POV Kira, POV Lydia, POV Stiles, Past Lydia Martin/Aiden, Past Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Past Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Drugs, Self-Harm, Sex, currently undergoing some changes, only took me like two years ..., past Lydia Martin/Malia Tate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kriz/pseuds/official-stallison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Teach you what?” Malia's voice was wavering and Kira could feel her shiver under her hands, her lips. It definitely made her smirk this time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“To dance.” She whispered back, like it's a secret, like she wasn’t talking about dancing at all, like that was the last thing on her mind.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Malia nodded eagerly, her hand finally releasing its death grip on Kira's, reaching around to grip Kira’s waist instead, not really pulling her closer (because that wasn't possible) but pressing them together firmer, until air would’ve to divide to get through.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kira couldn't find pretty words to describe the next kiss, mainly because it wasn't, not by a long shot. There were teeth and tongue brushes, she thought, but mostly just gasping, them breathing each others air, too out of breath already to do much else but too needy to stop touching, until finally, Malia just pressed their lips together, close mouthed and chaste.</em>
</p><p>OR</p><p>Is it worse to do the right thing for the wrong reasons or the wrong thing for the right reasons?<br/>Everyone has a price and once that's met ... the only thing left is to break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog. Was losing all my friends (It's coming to an end, yeah.)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on some gifsets I found on tumblr ([ x ](http://isaacmccall.tumblr.com/post/115450838352/au-after-seeing-how-desperately-in-need-of-money) & [ x ](http://isaacmccall.tumblr.com/post/116069412542/au-where-theres-no-such-thing-as-werewolves-and)) by Paige which stuck with me so I wrote something  
> This is a WIP, most of it is plotted out and outlined so I should finish  
> Nothing has been betaed so far, just me reading over it until my eyes teared so if you find mistakes, maybe tell me?  
> Title is a Brand New song everyone should listen too at least once  
> Chapter title is a line from 'Sowing Season', which as we all know is another Brand New song, because I'm original like that  
> Series title is by Cobra Starships  
> Comments are my livelihood, I need them to keep going ;)

_We never meant for that to happen! Things just escalated! Please, we didn't plan for this!_

It's hot. She knows it's hot. She knows she's actually sweating. She can feel the sweat on her skin, can feel it dripping down her skin, drooling, cold and wet, yet she can't help those shivers that shake her, the cold they bring with less of the body, more of the mind. Like her soul had been frozen. A cold she'll never shake again. A cold she never _wanted_ to shake again. Because she deserved it!

The wooden bench she was sitting on had started getting uncomfortable a while ago, making her butt hurt, making her fidget, move around as if she somehow, miraculously would get comfortable. When she didn't even deserve it.

Her eyes were downcast, stubbornly focused on her shoes as if that would keep people from seeing the truth, knowing the truth, the guilt not letting her meet anyone's eyes either, like she wasn't even good enough to meet those accusing eyes, meet their stares, their anger, as those words kept racing through her mind, burning on her tongue, a bad taste she couldn't shake. She wants to scream them, spit them, dump them on someone else until they leave her alone, until everyone leaves her alone, yet she holds them back. Barely. Because she deserves the agony. Because she lost any illusion of save places. Because she knows they'll never leave her no matter what. They are with her now, till the end of dawn, a part of her, a cruel and angry part, a mark on her soul so deep they might as well be edged in her skin for everyone to see!

Everything, _everyone_ was wrong about them. Her parents earlier, when they refused to accept the truth, refused to see it, kept repeating they were just kids, please, they didn't know any better! It had all just been a mistake! _Please_! Like a mantra. Like saying it often enough could make others believe it, could make _them_ believe it, could make it true - when she didn't even know what the truth was herself. Not anymore.

Because they had. Known better. They weren't blind sided by all of this. They had known the dangers. The potential consequences. The actual consequences! And they had ignored it. Because they could. So no, they weren't. Not anymore. Not since they choose their path.

At least that's what she thought. But that may only be her truth. She may have never just been a kid, but maybe they had. Maybe someone had. Anyone.

_Just kids_. More words that had been on her mind the whole night, haunting her, taunting her, as if her own mind was laughing at her misery. Probably. It wouldn't surprise her. The hate was there.

_Just kids_. Those words hadn't been true for a while now. Not really. Not since all of this started. Not since _that_ night. Maybe not even before that. Nope. Never blindsided. Always knowing everything. Together they had known it all. Had been prepared. Or should have been at least. Because in reality they weren't. If tonight had proven anything it was this: they weren't ready. Weren't prepared. It was their fault. Her fault. The worlds.

There was no truth.

There was a cough, ripping her from the darkness, the loneliness, a reminder that she wasn't actually alone right now. Like she could have forgotten. With his eyes burning into her like a physical manifestation of her guilt, of all the people she had failed, all the things she had done wrong.

His face was tired when she finally looked up after too many deep breaths and shaky exhales, his uniform rumpled, reminding her of someone else she'd seen in a similar uniform today, the screams of pain and anger that followed the reveal. As if she deserved even more pain tonight. Then again, maybe she did. Maybe they all did. Maybe death would be the only release they could find!

A flash of red, too much blood, she wanted to puke, run, hide. No! Someone kept screaming. No! Not her! Her own voice, maybe, she thought. Probably.

The similarities to his son are starkly visible.

"Things just escalated." She said at least, when she couldn't bear the silence any longer, the stare getting to heavy, making her give in. Because sharing may not relieve her soul but it could relieve her of him at least!

The words felt even more like an excuse out loud, but then hearing them still helps, made her think there may be something in it after all, some truth no one could deny, somewhere, anywhere! Like it wasn't actually all false. Like maybe they had really just been kids. And maybe they were. Maybe they could be at fault and not at fault at the same time.

Maybe they could get absolution without deserving it!

The man growled ever so slightly, quietly, tiredly. He had been here all night too, she remembered, mostly with her, staring at her, but never talking.

She wondered if everyone else is okay. Her eyes filled with tears when she remembered, no they are not, not everyone, not anymore, never again!

So much blood, she thought, dark in the moonlight, too visible, oozing out, pooling, a puddle, fast getting bigger, too fast, too big, seeping into the ground, drenching it like the sacrifice to some pagan god, a god from a more savage, more barbaric time. Well, more openly barbaric anyway!

"Just start talking."

Somehow she does. Even if it makes her want to die, she does.

The pain doesn't stop, but after a while she feels numb and that's better than nothing. She may actually be breathing again!


	2. I must be dreamin’ (I want this dream to be real I need this feelin’)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break-up, some awkward flirting and a shopping trip ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically Chapter 1, but whatever...  
> And technically only part 1, I split it up so it's shorter...  
> Title is "Ain't nobody", the Jasmine Thompson version which isn't different to the original except I prefer her voice, but that's just me maybe ...  
> There's some reference to cheating in this chapter...  
> Mistakes are all intentional... it's my aesthetic... please tell me so I can remove them ...  
> I really like writing '...' mind if I do it some more? It's kind of calming ...

**Months before that ...**

**KIRA**

"I can't believe you did that - again!" Aiden's eyebrows were drawn so deep his face looked like it tried to fold in on itself. She could feel those words in her mouth, bubbling up, but swallowed them down quickly. She highly doubted he'd see any humour in it if anyone decided to point this particular comparison out!

They stood nearly chest to chest, just mere inches separating the former lovers and instinctively Lydia seemed to straighten herself up, spine pressed through, back held uncomfortably flat, yet she still didn't manage to reach eye level, even with those three inch heels she seemed to favour and his looming, slightly crooked posture. Like he could intimidate her that easy!

It probably made Lydia mad more than anything else.

Her feet were positioned slightly apart, grounding her, both hands on her hips, elbows pointing outwards, dangerously sharp much like those shoes she stood on. A female power stance her mother would call it. And then she'd probably smile at the perfect execution demonstrated here. That's how you do it, she'd say.

One of the hands Lydia had at her hips twitched upwards, just an inch, but still enough to have people moving backwards.

Someone snickered.

"Oh, what a surprise!" Jackson Whittmore taunted when he was sure he had everyone's attention, "Lydia Martin being unfaithful! No one saw that one coming! Like she'd never done it before! Seriously who would have guessed Stilinski was that good? Seriously, Lyds, I always thought it was just pity that kept you coming back, but apparently boy actually got some skills! Good job!"

He hadn't even finished speaking before Lydia moved. The speed with which the redhead spun around to face her ex (standing far closer than it could be smart, anyone would have known that, and he was at her eye level as well) to punch him was truly astonishing. Lydia was simply a blur. For a moment the whole yard seemed frozen unsure what had just happened as Jackson doubled over with Lydia hovering over him, still starring murderously. His cheeks reddened quickly, giving a clue, eyes watering involuntarily. Lydia above him held her hand at an awkward angle, slightly away from herself, as if it wasn't really a part of her, still shaped like a fist, the order to open it probably never even crossing her mind.

It was a funny picture yet no one laughed.

It took a few more breaths but then people seemed to be teared from their stupor, with several things happening at once:

One, Jackson charged forward while Stiles 'real names are overrated' Stilinski rushed to grab Lydia, caging her as if to restrain the smaller women, pressing her too his chest, his head bent to talk to her. Two, Aiden turned around and pummelled Scott McCall, so far only an innocent, wide-eyed bystander. And three, across the quad a teacher came rushing out through the double doors, screaming about detention.

All while the sky was darkening further, a storm brewing over their heads, making everything appear starkly clear in contrast. It set the scene nicely as all around her people began screaming in surprise, shock and amusement. Better than a telenovela, she heard someone say and a few people laughed.

"Kira?" Someone asked softly, close-by, trying hard not to spook her.

And failed. Kira flinched, dropping her bag with a gasp. The new girl had been so fascinated by the going ons unfolding in front of her she hadn't even noticed someone walking up to her.Pens and other nick-nacks spilled everywhere and several bystanders snickered, stepping out it of the way to not be touched by any of her stuff, unbothered by her glaring.

In the background Harris, the chemistry teacher, ranted about aggression and violence without anyone listening as Stiles tried to calm Lydia and Scott pleaded with a crying Allison. Jackson and Aiden meanwhile had long since disappeared into the mass of bodies filling the yard.

"This is the worst week of my life!" She groaned, on her knees, obviously embarrassed. Her skin felt like it was on flames and she was pretty sure she'd just touched some old gum!

Malia Tate giggled as she crouched down as well to help her. It was a nice sound, she noticed, even while crawling around on her knees with people looking on.

"I wanted to ask if you wanna go have lunch with some people and I off campus, but it seems the entertainment here is much better! I understand if you can't rip yourself away, Kira." Malia teased her, handing back the last pen and watching as Kira dropped it into the mess of her bag. Other people would have taken the opportunity to clean up their bags, maybe organized some things, but Kira believed in the merits of organized chaos. And by organized chaos she meant shoving everything in, hoping it fit and the bag would still zip!

Kira starred at her. The offer took a moment to register in her brain, distracted by how much she liked hearing her name in Malia's voice, how much she liked watching those lips move in general actually. She shock her head, clearing it.

Malia was a sophomore like her but the girls only shared one class. And sure, they had talked like six or seven times (Kira wasn't really sure her rambling on the first day actually counted as a conversation) after Calculus, sometimes even before (if Malia wasn't busy having the homework explained to her by helpful students, sometimes the teacher) but then again between the brunet's outgoing personality and being an all-state track champion she was highly popular. Kira thought their talking barely registered on her social radar! She thought she was just being nice! After all, Malia was always talking to someone. And she was definitely nice.

It took her a few more beats, but finally Kira managed to nod, still completely dumbfounded.

Malia smiled back happily and brushed away a strand of hair blown into Kira's eyes by the fast worsening wind. All around them people were laughing as her world slowed down.

For a moment the girls just stood there, smiling at each other, before Malia quickly got moving, grabbing Kira by the wrist and dragging her behind her, talking about the Pizza Place they were all going to while ignoring the tension that had just built between them. So maybe Kira was wrong about her?

Malia dragged her through school, not really looking where they were going and Kira noticed how here and there people seemed to pause and watch them, some amused, others clearly meaner. It made Kira uneasy. She dropped her head a bit, focusing on her shoes and blending out everyone else. Malia's voice was just soothing enough.

Surprisingly, though, when they reached the parking lot only two people waiting for them, both of them guys, both sophomores' like them, who introduced each other as Mason and Liam. Kira was so happy to have people willingly talk to her she didn't even remind them about having english sixth period together. She just smiled and nodded, pretending like she tried hard not to forget their names and not like she already knew them!

"Omg, Hayley just texted me! Apparently Lydia and Aiden had another fight?" Mason said once everyone was seated in Liam's car, the girls settling in the back. Different to Kira, he and Malia already had their licences as they had turned sixteen over the summer. Mason was fifteen just like Kira.

"Why are you talking to Hayley?" Liam wanted to know at the same time as Malia told them "They broke up. She cheated." in a far too casual way. Like it hadn't been the first time. Come to think of it, it probably hadn't!

"Again?" Mason laughed, answering Kira's unspoken question while completely ignoring his friend's glaring. "Who's the lucky guy this time? Please tell me not Stilinski again - or I'll actually have to hop on there one of these days, just to find out if he's really this good! And ya'll know what a terrible idea this would be - right, Malia?" He added like an afterthought.

Malia made a face like she had smelled something bad.

"Scott McCall." Kira said carefully, diverting the attention from the annoyed looking Malia, tasting the name of the brown eyed boy he had given her today, earlier during chemistry after the made him change seats. She was pretty sure she got it right.

And now she even understood why they had made him move. Huh. She had wondered.

Malia whistled then, face back to normal.

"Her best friend's boyfriend? That's a lot - even for Lydia!"

Everyone nodded. Like any of them even knew what they were talking about!

"I don't get," Liam said after a while, "why she doesn't just break up with them! She did the same exact thing with Jackson last year, cheating on him with Aiden!"

"Not sure that's the kind of guy you can just break up with." Malia mused thoughtfully.

Kira thought the look the boys shared looked sheepish and when her eyes met Mason's in the mirror they definitely felt guilty.

The silence that followed was unnaturally heavy and it made Kira wonder what exactly she was missing. She rolled everything around in her brain but couldn't really find it. Something about Jackson and Aiden maybe and why Lydia wouldn't just break up with them. And Malia maybe. Probably! The look on her face had been telling.

So when they finally, a few minutes later, enter the parking lot of that pizza place, Kira ripped open the door as soon as she thinks the car has stopped, glad to be leaving the unnatural quiet of the car. She took a deep breath of fresh September air as soon as she was outside, gulping it down, feeling like she hadn't been able to do that for the past moments. The quiet had felt so awkward and suffocating!

Malia looked at her bemused. She chuckled and Kira blushed.

"Sorry!" She said sheepishly.

The brunet shruged, undisturbed by Kira's impoliteness. She supposed not a lot could bother her. Kira understood - she had amazing hair after all! Among other things.

"Got kind of heavy in there, didn't it?" Malia smiled at her. "Sorry. Usually we're more fun!" Kira thought she'd forgive her most everything right then.

"Oh, girlfriend, my, are we! So intense!" Mason interrupted, dropping an arm around their shoulders and pulling them in so they were all practically hugging, "We're so much fun! Wait till you see us drunk, sister! Seriously, you should join us tomorrow, see for yourself" He drawled into her ear, winking prettily. Kira thought he'd make some guy pretty happy sometime.

"Mason." Malia growled at him, for once not looking so easygoing but actually vaguely threatening - and maybe, if the way she fidgets a bit is any indication, also slightly embarrassed. If that was even possible...

Kira looked over to where Liam stood, trying to get a read on the situation but the blond just wore his usual constipated face. He did shrug though! But Kira wasn't too sure it was in response to her silent question as she heard him mumble something about bubblegum, too much hair that got into everything and someone being a wannabe Selena Gomez. She smiled at him kindly and kept walking toward the entrance with only Mason having his arm around her now as Malia had shaken it off, annoyed again.

So Kira stopped herself from asking, joining the conversation (well, discussion was more accurate) about toppings instead.

*****

“So what's the story?” Kira asked Malia later, when she was driving her home.

Lunch had been really fun in the end. Malia had been as pretty and charming as ever, but Kira found she liked the boys as well. Liam may be a bit grumpy with a bit of a temper and far too short fuse, but Mason's sunny personality more than made up for that! They had the intimacy of two people who had been friends for most of their lives, but neither made anyone feel left out by that.

Actually she hadn't felt left out once the whole time, despite only meeting them that day. Mason had even waved her over before english, laughing how none of them had noticed they were sharing a class (well, she had, but she wasn't going to admit that now) . Kira hadn't had that much funin a while! Not since she found out about the move.

So of course, when Malia sat down before math and asked if she should give her a ride after school, Kira had assumed she may have entered an alternate Universe – well, not immediately. First she had to get her mind out of that part of her brain occupied with all those thoughts on other rides she wanted Malia to give her!

And she could have said no, sure, should have probably - her father was at school as well after all, she knew he wouldn't stay long so she wouldn't have to wait so much - but then Malia claimed she was on her way to the reserve anyways and it wasn't even out of the way, so when Kira opened her mouth to decline politely a ‚yeah, thank you!' came out instead. And then Malia's smile had been so bright she couldn't take it back anymore.

So that's how she ended up in a car with Malia for the second time that day, sweating bullets, and desperately grasping for something to talk about.

“What's what story?” Malia replied, voice tense.

Kira wondered if she was uncomfortable driving. She thought the boys had said something in that area during lunch, something about coyotes, but Kira had been too busy staring and the words hadn't really registered.

Staring, like she could feel herself doing now as well, but Kira couldn't really make herself stop. Malia was just too pretty, drawing in Kira's eyes with soft hair that made her hands twitch with how badly she wanted to touch it and the way her skin glowed with the sun shining in through the window and just, well, just everything about her actually! And the expression on her face, somewhere between concentrated and determined wasn't helping either. Kira just found it really adorable. Kira found everything about her adorable!

And okay, now she wondered if Malia knew, because the look on her face was way to put out for the innocent conversation they had been having - at least as far as Kira was aware! She couldn't really remember what they had been talking about, too distracted by those tanning lines visible on Malia's thighs, there where her shorts had rode up. It made her sweat, watching those creamy thighs, how muscular they looked, how they moved, bounced along to the music. And then there was the fact that by now most of Malia’s flannel shirt was unbuttoned, only closed in the middle, everything just covered by a white, tight-stretched tank. Kira hadn’t needed to know what color her bra was, to be honest.

She shock her head, trying to focus herself. Malia may have asked her something, she thought. Yeah, Kira had said something and Malia wanted her to clarify it, that's it!

“What's the, ah, story between Liam and Hayden?” She specified, voice throaty. Kira coughed, attempting to clear her throat.

Malia laughed, a weirdly relieved sound that made Kira wonder some more. The brunet may seem open, but somewhere under there she hid a mystery and it intrigued Kira even more. “Oh, that! Actually I don't really know the story either, I haven't known them back then and everyone involved simply refuses to talk about it, but… as far as I know Hayden had a crush on Liam and he pranked her. Yeah, that!All I know is Liam made her cry and she gave him a rather impressive scar. So something like that.”

“That's … mean!” Kira heard herself say incredulous. They all seemed so nice! Nothing like her old friends anyways!

Malia simply shrugged.

“It was, wasn't it? Liam was such an asshole back then!”

Kira looked over at her in surprise. That honestly hadn't been what she expected to hear!

“What?” Malia shrugged. “Oh, don't give me that look! I was an asshole as well! Come on! Don't tell me you aren’t horrified by the person you were in Middle School!”

Kira's opened her mouth, something along the lines 'I'm horrified by what I said five minutes ago' on her mind, but thankfully Malia was too busy watching the road right now to notice so she just kept talking. “Okay, maybe you're not! You're way to sweet and nice for something like that, right?” And then she looked over and winked and Kira blushed enough her face may need the fire department to feel normal again. If that was even possible anymore, goddamit!

It was the cheesiest line anyone had ever used on her and after living in NYC for a while as someone with an immigrant background (if you hadn’t noticed she was only part US-america, mostly though southwest asian as her momma was Japanese and her dad Korean) she had heard quite a few of those. Because apparently people always assumed due to her look she was some sweet innocent girl – which they somehow equated to terrible lines working on her. Obviously nice girls didn’t have standards?

Although Kira had to admit, maybe because of her earnestness that actually made it seem genuine and not like she was feeding her something (or the fact that she was distracted by how pretty Malia was or maybe even that no one had flirted with her in a while and it had lowered her standards) she kind of realized it was actually working - but then again, maybe she was just really in love with her already?

And god, if that thought didn't freak Kira out!

Not the part where Malia was a women, no, Kira had known she was attracted to both for a while now.

Well, she thought she had. Kind of. Because sure, Kira had known she wasn't entirely straight. There had been moments, again and again, where she found herself attracted to someone that wasn’t male, but it had never really mattered before! She never really thought about it, had never felt to need to label it, this, her sexuality, whatever. It just hadn’t mattered, hadn't been part of her identity. Because everyone liked pretty girls, right? And most people were curious! But all her relationships had been with males so far. And her experience with women was limited. As in none existent. (She said, a fifteen year old virgin with two ex-boyfriends she had barely kissed and some make-out sessions with basic strangers, sure, Kira!)

So yeah, she had always brushed it off as curiosity, never thinking there was any real merit to it – until she met Malia. Kira wasn't sure what it was about the brunet that fascinated her, made her look, drew her in like a moth to her flame, but something did. And it scared her.

Kira had never been in love with a women before. Hell, she'd hardly been with a guy! But Malia made it so easy to fall for her, with her joyful laugh and those bright eyes.

And sitting there in the car with her, right then and there, Kira decided it didn’t really matter anyways, right? She liked her and that’s what counted and everything would find itself! Hell, she was fifteen, she didn’t need to know anything yet! So Kira bit her lips and kept the word-vomit in.

“So,” Malia said, killing the motor as they stopped in front of the Yukimura's house and slowly turned toward the younger girl in the passenger seat. She looked nearly as nervous as Kira felt all of the sudden (well, okay, maybe let herself feel was more accurate. She was always nervous around Malia, from second one, nervous but weirdly comfortable), “any plans for the weekend yet?”

Kira huffed.

“Studying? Homework? And there's still some unpacking to be done, I think ...” She trailed off, internally groaning. She couldn't have made herself sound lamer if she had intended to!

Malia on the other hand straightened up.

“That means you're free Saturday night? I thought maybe someone already asked you, but … tomorrow evening I mean…”

Kira nodded, daring not to feel hopeful just yet. Maybe...

The brunet leaned forward a bit, reaching out with a hand as if to grab Kira's, only to awkwardly drop it. Kira’s own kept twitching as well, wanting to touch Malia's hair, the brunet drawing her in like a magnet.

They were really close now and Kira could feel the heat from Malia’s skin like they always said in her dad’s books! She looked at her feet, breathing slightly speeding up. The air between them felt heavy once again and a crazy part of Kira's brain thought Malia may kiss her.

“There's a … I think Mason mentioned it … Wanna go to a party with me?” Malia asked instead, voice raspier and far quieter than usual, unsure.

Kira's head snapped up to find the other girl stare back at her, calm and bright despite her voice. Like she really meant it.

“Like a … you mean a date?” Kira clarified. Which was a stupid question. Because of course it wasn't. It couldn't be! Malia was pretty and popular and quite possible not even into girls or Kira and she was imagining things again like fourth grade with Oscar Vapor, no, Malia just felt sorry for the new girl and now Kira had ruined it and she'd -

“Yeah,” Malia grinned amused, “exactly like a date.”

“Okay.” Kira agreed, breathlessly, the words only slowly registering and after she had already said them. She had a date! With Malia!

They sat in the car a few more minutes, just staring at each other, both grinning like lunatics and Kira thought maybe she hadn't been all that wrong about Malia potentially kissing her. Maybe she was even going to do it now?

The way the car was parked, on the other side of the street, Kira had a very clear view of her house and the front door had just opened, her mother stepping out, not really emitting any emotions, just standing there, waiting.

Kira sighed.

“I should probably get inside?” She mused, not wanting to leave at all.

Malia's eyes danced.

“Yeah.” She agreed.

They starred at each other for a few more beats before Kira finally found the button for movement in her brain and then she jumped out of the car far too quick, giving herself whip splash, waving, moving so fast she nearly slipped. Her mother raised her eyebrows, hardly responding to her daughter hugging her once Kira reached the house, maybe out of surprise, maybe because she was still focused on the car currently speeding away.

And for the rest of the day Kira felt like she was floating. So the big freakout didn't actually hit her until the next morning, during breakfast, after she asked her parents for permission, when she randomly realizes there was nothing to wear for a party in her closet. Or at least nothing she wants to wear!

It made Kira feel homesick. Back in New York not knowing what to wear wouldn't have been a problem. Kira would have just left their apartment, walked down a few flights of stairs and entered the first second hand shop. And if she didn't find something there she'd go to the next one. And the next one. And then there was always the metro to take her to another location where there were even more shops! She’d have found something to wear.

Instead she was stuck in Beacon Hills, that had like one mall, consisting of some chain brands and no public transportation to take her there. And she didn't even have a girlfriend to go shopping with, the only girl she had actually talked to being the one to take her on the date she was prepping for.

For a moment Kira was so desperate she even contemplated her mom. But she refused to ask her, their back to school trip before moving still fresh in her mind.

That's when her cellphone vibrated.

Kira practically dove off the table to reach it lying a reachable distance away on the kitchen isle ( _no phones on the table,_ Kira, her mother had decided), afraid it was Malia and she wanted to cancel – although, that would solve her clothes dilemma!

It was Mason instead.

**r u freaking out yet?**

Kira debated for about five seconds, unsure if their friendship was ready for this already, but decided she didn't have much choice.

**Depends**

**Got a car?**

**Nah**

**15 remember?**

**Damn**

**But my bro owns me**

**Wat do u need?**

**Emergency shopping trip?**

**Bby i'm ur man! B thr in 15!**

And she breathed again, slowly. Thank god, Kira thought.

Looking down at the black leggings and oversized shirt she had thrown on before breakfast she shrugged. It would do. No one to impress anyways!

Kira pulled her black hair into a bun that was less artfully messy and more of the held together by faith - kind (and faith alone, honestly) before sprinting up the stairs, trying to find her bag.

Her parents eyes followed all of that, hardly surprised anymore. After all, experience had taught them waiting would be the best course of action!

“Mom,” Kira screamed a few minutes later running downstairs and back into the kitchen, a already half packed back in her hands, “have you seen my wallet? I think I lost it … again!”

“Where are you going?” Noshiko Yukimura wanted to know instead.

“I'm going shopping with a friend. For tonight.” Kira smiled happily. She was so happy, she’d find the perfect outfit today and then tonight would be just amazing and maybe by tomorrow she’d have kissed Malia - if she found her wallet that was!

Her mother hummed thoughtfully.

“With that girl from yesterday?”

That made Kira grin even more.

“Nope!” She said, popping the p. “Another friend!”

For a moment there was a soft smile on Noshiko's face. She had been worried, even if she'd never admit it.

“Didn't we just buy you knew clothes?” She inquired further.

“Yes!” Kira exclaimed exasperated “But those were normal clothes! For school and stuff – nothing to wear to a date… or a party!” She quickly added in case her mother got the wrong (right) idea.

Mrs Yukimura stared at her daughter for a few beats, considering all of this while Kira faced her, desperately trying to stand still and not bounce with the excitement and anticipation she felt. After a while the tall women nodded. She handed over the wallet.

“Be home for dinner!” Noshiko ordered not unkindly. She had been young once as well!

Kira nodded back quickly - so quickly she started resembling a bobblehead for a moment. Too quickly because Kira clacked her teeth together and from her neck came a sharp gush of pain.

Kira stayed rooted to the kitchen floor a moment longer, unsure what was next, contemplating her newest injury, cursing her clumsiness (but only inwardly – or the next party she'd go to was a funeral) before jumping into action once again. She stuffed the wallet into her bag sure she'd find it again despite the mess and grabbed a light jacket as she passed the rack, already halfway bounced out of the door, tennis shoes on her feet.

Mr and Mrs Yukimura gazed at each other in quiet exasperation before shaking their heads, fondly, in unison. Kira was a gift and no one would ever convince them otherwise, but hell, if she wasn't a hurricane intended on getting them to in an early grave!

The Hewitt's came speeding round the corner just as Kira closed the front door behind her. She waved.

+++

**STILES**

Saturday morning found Stiles at the mall with Lydia. It was loud and rather crowded, too bright, too colourful.

Then again, Beacon Hills Mall, the one and only, was always loud and crowded - mostly due to the fact that it was, well, the one and only. They were a smallish town after all, less than 20.000 people lived in the whole county and they were too far from La or San Francisco or even Sacramento for a quick trip on a Saturday and to still be considered catchment area. They hardly ever had nice weather, Beacon County was rainy and windy, with a sucky beach and so far from what you expect Cali to be like they might as well live in Oregon! Beacon Hills was old and rundown and boring as a whole. So yeah, the mall was always full and crowded, there was nothing better to do after all and nowhere else to go either, and nothing was better for business than a lack of competition, right?

God, Stiles hated the mall!

Yep, you heard right, he wasn't too happy to be there, no matter how boring and average his Saturday would be otherwise (cause chain stores were all that innovative and interesting, seriously, Lydia, get some perspective!)! Because despite what some rumours may claim Stiles couldn't care less about who or what was fashionable and where exactly to get it. He wasn't really that superficial. Not at all! Which wasn’t saying that people who cared about their looks were superficial, no, not necessarily, it just wasn’t for Stiles, you know? Yeah, you know! Like, all his nice clothes had been forced on him, okay? By Lydia. When she dragged him to the mall. Because his life was boring. Much like she had done today actually!

(And wow, what did that say about him, they’ve been friends for most of their lives yet she was still able to manipulate him the same way she had in 7th grade before that big weeklong school trip, holy, the sad reality of his life!)

“Okay, no, I won't even consider trying on those pants, Lyds! Seriously.” He protested holding the offending pair of aqua blue jeans as far away from himself as he could. No way in heaven or hell!

Lydia didn’t even turn around, just turn her head a bit to give him the old over the shoulder look, raised eyebrows included. It was a look somewhere between arrogant and pleading, saying ‚oh please, just do this for me‘ and ‚oh please you’re gonna do this for me’ at the same time, something he knew only a few people could naturally pull off (and by handful he meant himself and Lydia).

(Maybe his mom as well, he really couldn't remember anymore. The stories said ‚yes‘ but his mind said ‚no‘ and pictures just reminded him how fast memories got warped!)

“I'm serious, Lydia, I'm not wearing those!” He repeated, so much determination in his voice someone more stubborn than either of them could have been convinced.

Except apparently not today. Today he got to catch a white, vee-necked tee to got with those horrible pants instead as if he had never spoke, the only proof that words had actually left his mouth being a some truly impressive eyerolling. He could practically feel the redhead not caring! Not that it was hard, her hinting wasn’t very subtle!

“Do I,” she began, voice casual, too casual, far too casual to mean anything good, this wasn’t save anymore, Stiles thought, he may have to leave, to run, find a Marshall, get a name change, that kinda thing, “have to remind you whose party you are planning on attending tonight?”

“And do I,” he gave back (because seriously he was an asshole, people kept forgetting that! Why did people always forget that about him?), “have to remind you why I am currently shopping with you? Do I have to remind you why it’s me and not someone else? And do I have to give you a list of all the people currently not talking to you? Because I could, you know? And it's actually really short by the way: it’s everyone but me!”

“No pants, no party!” Lydia snapped not even looking at him this time, just stalking off to sift through a rack of far too short dresses.

Part of Stiles wanted to keep protesting ad the pants practically burned his eyes with their intensity and he had been seen simple holding them by five classmates alone, Beacon Hills High had a little bit of a Mean Girls thing going on, by Monday some people may actually be wearing them thinking it was fashionable and he his conscious just couldn’t handle that right now, there may be pictures after all, but good god, that was not the way one should treat a dress like ever, either! At least not that dress, it was actually really nice dress in a pretty shade of blue, Stiles liked it, he wanted someone to buy it but Lydia was about to destroy it and not in a fun way! So he just stalked off, hating himself a little more for not being a bigger asshole.

The universe owed him, he thought, as he got to make eye contact with Cora Hale of all people, her judgmental eyes never failing to make him feel horrible.

Stiles wouldn't buy them though. It wasn't just a question of dignity but also money (because really, what dignity? Stiles had given that up the moment he caught that piece of fabric). Ever since his mothers got sick there had been tight spots, not badly tight, his parents had put some money away for later and his father had a steady income but cancer drained in more ways than one. So Stiles had an excuse for not paying 75 bucks for a pair of pants he'd never wear. One even Lydia would accept!

But even knowing that, it still took him a while to feel ready to leave the safety of the dressing room, having to mentally prepare himself first cause those were aqua! Fucking acqua! He wasn't a fucking hipster! And the worst part was in the end a tiny, tiny part, barely worth mentioning, actually regretted that! And just because those pants made his butt look amazing!

But again: 75 bucks, so his butt would just have to be nice all by itself then! Which it did anyways, so Stiles was save.

Lydia didn’t even really look at him before she huffed once he showed her (after he had searched to find her for over five minutes in that mess of a store, running around in those awfully coloured pants) before waving him away, mumbling something about chicken legs and how all hope was lost. Stiles gave her the finger.

Which meant his finger was already up and he could just use it to point, when he needed to a moment later!

“Hey, who's that?” he asked pointing at two people some feet away.

Lydia reached out to push down his hand, silently scolding him for his horrible manners.

“Mason.” She reminded him.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Duh.

“I meant the girl.” He specified. “That's Malia's new girlfriend, isn't it?”

Lydia actually looked at him now.

“I don't know, Stilinski, your the one friends with her.” The redhead drawled in the most convincing artfully bored voice she could manage.

Stiles laughed because he’d been friends with so long he remembered a time when she couldn’t hadn’t sounded so convincing yet!

(In fact, he was pretty sure he had taught her that particular skill the summer before her parents got divorced when her cousin from Texas.)

“I’m pretty sure, I saw them together quite a lot the past week!”

“She's not her type.”

“Oh? You sure? Why? Did she say something? Did you talk? I thought you weren’t talking? Or did you decide for her again? Why? What’s you’re reasoning? Was it the black hair? Or because she's asian?” Stiles wanted to know, railing her up just for the hell of it. He may own most of his initial popularity to Lydia but he had payed a high enough price for being her friend as well. Stiles wasn't going to just let it go. Especially not when it came to Malia!

Plus, as he sometimes suspected, he was the only one not even a little bit afraid of her. And sometimes someone had to put her in her place - or things like her making out with her best friends boyfriend happened!

The way Lydia looked at him would have withered lesser man.

“No,” she drawled, “because she's bubbly and cute.”

Stiles nodded slowly, mock thoughtful, not quite done with being an ass just yet!

“Yeah, you're right, cute and bubbly, not her type. Never.” He agreed before holding up his hand and popping a finger with each new name. “Tracy. Heather. Caitlyn's ex. Me. You!”

„Emily.“ Lydia informed him before pausing and realising what he had just said. Then she huffed. Which she did a lot around him some to think of it! “Neither of us is … bubbly!” She spit that out as if his words were offensive. Which, okay, they were. A bit. For them!

He laughed darkly.

“I… we both know I don’t actually count. And obviously you've never had sex with yourself, because if you did you'd know that you do get bubbly. After. It’s really cute!” He added thoughtfully, doing his best to remind Lydia he was an asshole and bad friend - so she’d remember it the next time she needed someone to go shopping with her!

(He had his priorities, okay? There was only so much time he could spend in windowless rooms where the only air may be recycled before he wanted to kill someone!)

Lydia huffed before turning back to sifting through a rack of dresses not unlike the one he had left her at earlier (except on the other side of the store) as if he hadn't spoken at all. Only he had to notice her eyes glinting playfully now, telling Stiles his plan had failed. Goddamn! Guess it was plan B then: Make Allison forgive Lydia. And maybe brainwash Lyds until she stopped doing things that made Ally mad.

Because Stiles really didn’t like shopping! Or maybe just the mall.

He turned around, practically prancing back to the changing room and the redhead had to stifle a giggle. This was the closest Stiles had come to giving up so far in his life and she found herself smirking victoriously.

Martin: 1 – Stilinski: 0

Sadly the day wasn’t over just yet!

And Stiles didn't know if it was a coincidence or divine intervention but somehow new girl – Kira, he remembered Scott saying – ended up in the stall next to his with Hewitt leaning against the wall outside like the worst bodyguard imaginable.

Stiles winked when he passed them, suggestive with some subtle warning mixed in. Because sometimes Stiles was a good friend but mostly he was a slut.

“I can't remember the last time I was in a mall!” New girl giggled in the stall next to him.

Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, well, Beacon Hills isn't New York City, Sweetie!” Hewitt replied with amusement, sounding much nicer than Stiles would saying the same things. Or anyone really. Which actually surprised him so much he had to pause in pulling up his pants to think about that - that was until he remembered Hewitt was even nicer than most people gave him credit for. It was fairly sickening to be honest.

Mason may even be nicer than Scott or Allison, mainly because he lacked his anger and her edge, leaving just the fluffy core.

To be honest, the thought made Stiles want to taint him, break him, ruin him and all just because he Mason was too nice and he knew he could!

Instead he buttoned his pants, red and skinny and definitely bought on one of his quarterly shopping trips with Lydia. This wasn't who his mother would have wanted Stiles to be, no matter how she had been in the end or how angry at the world he felt most of the time!

So he just left the room feeling horrible, feeling sickened, hating himself a little bit more, just brushing past Lydia rudely, hoping his behaviour would make her want to leave earlier.

It didn’t.

She just grabbed his arm and dragged him along, over to the next ice cafe with surprising strength for someone her size.

Neither of them actually bought any ice cream (for various reasons) but the coffee he gulped down greedily was good (at least as far as he could taste with his burnt tongue) while the redhead watched him with a calculating expression on her face, sipping more slowly.

Sometimes Stiles forgot how similar they really were, how much they really had in common and how looking into her eyes could feel like looking into his own, into a mirror, the same darkness, the same anger starring back at him, just framing with thicker, darker lashes.

The thought should have been comforting but wasn’t. Instead it made him feel sad, made him sick and even more so angry to think that someone as beautiful and amazing as her had to cover up the same demons Stiles did, had to hide them, fight them.

Ultimately that was probably why they became friends. Again. But also why they had never become more than that despite it all, despite how much sense it made on paper. Why Lydia had really chosen him of all people, why they could be to each other what they were, could treat each other that way, could act that way with each other and still be friends, because she saw the same things in him he saw in her, because he was the one person she'd never have to explain anything to. Because they were the same. Because Stiles just knew. And so it was the sad, sad truth of their lives how they’d be perfect for each except both were to messed up already to really manage being in a relationship, especially with each other and spending too much time together would probably kill someone. Not necessarily them, but someone!

They stayed seated in the cafe, sipping coffee, watching people pass for minutes, half an hour, an hour, never saying a word, until the acid in his stomach has settled, until Stiles was calm again and he actually felt like he was breathing. And it was far more comfortable than it should be. His father once said the only time Stiles wasn't lying was when he shut up and that only ever happened when he was asleep as Stiles was always saying something, even when he wasn’t talking and looking at Lydia right now he thought maybe it didn’t just apply to him. Maybe to her as well!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, yeah ...  
> Part 2 is already written, I just need to edit it and this already got so long I decided to split ... don't wanna built up so much expectation for the future ;)  
> I'm not 100% sure their voices are distinctive enough right now, but I've also read this far too often so it may just be me ... anyways this is my subtle way of saying comments are appreciated, I guess?  
> ... some more because I'm tired ... I'm always tired ... pressing buttons is so nice ...


	3. I don't wanna say goodnight (The city comes alive, when we're together)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party, a date, lot's of description's of hair and some underlying fear of ruined eyeliner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took way longer than intended, I'm sorry, I've just been so lazy lately  
> (And it's not like anyone is reading this anyways *cries silently*)  
> Also I admit, I may have a slight obsession with everything that is Shelley Hennig's hair, I'm sorry, I don't really know how that happened!  
> Title is All Time Low - For Baltimore

**LYDIA**

> Saturday evening, September, Beacon Hills County, time: around 9 pm.
> 
> A male entered the expensive looking kitchen of Lorraine Martin’s lake house. He was young, definitely underage, maybe fifteen years old with a round, with apale face and dark hair.
> 
> There was a party, typical teenage style with red solo cup and alcohol they weren’t yet allowed to drink. The kitchen itself, setting of this particular scene, was a well-lit room, big with an isle in the middle, very white, surprisingly clean and empty aside from the hostess, Miss Lydia Martin, granddaughter of deceased Mrs. Martin, leaning against a cupboard, looking stressed. She didn’t smoke but looked like she very much wanted to!
> 
> Our hero, a boy for now only known by his first name, Corey, recognised her. He smiled, asking a question.
> 
> Miss Martin looked at him. She was pretty, with long red hair and green eyes, eyes that upon hearing our hero’s question blazed with fire. With surprising speed Miss Martin crossed the room, her hands wrapping around Corey’s throat and the boy struggled but ultimately lost, falling backwards into the very full living room.
> 
> Panic erupted.
> 
> People started running, screaming. Several guests were trampled to death.
> 
> To this day - many, many years in the future - Miss Martin’s motive for the murder still wasn’t uncovered.
> 
> Some said it was a moment of insanity after the very public break-up with her boyfriend, Aiden, the day prior.
> 
> Others claimed she had simply gone mad, maybe long before it, probably around the time she decided to kiss her best friend’s boyfriend, Scott McCall.
> 
> Another, much less popular theory, was how our hero’s repeated inquiries (and well as those of several other individuals) for pot had angered Miss Martin, a women who once refused to talk to her oldest friend, Stiles Stilinski, for three full weeks solely for the fact that she had to repeat herself three times as Mr Stilinski - apparently - had been unable to listen up when she told him no anchovies on her pizza, so much she lost control
> 
> However, all this seemed rather unlikely as Miss Martin had never been known to lash out before and the real reasoning behind Corey’s murder shall never be known!
> 
> Next up: Eye witness reports of the murder and the following mass panic killing two more people!

„That was a bit harsh, don’t you think?“ Stiles slurred as he walked into the room on uncertain feet. His huge brown eyes followed Corey as the boy fled the kitchen, probably to find the nearest bathroom and cry.

Lydia shrugged.

„I also could have killed him.“ She reasoned.

Stiles giggled. There was a tad bit of additional swagger to his walk as he entered the kitchen and his body had a very telling left leaning, indicating just how drunk her friend was.

„I’m guessing you’re having fun then?“ Bambi joked.

The longer she looked at him, the drunker Stiles appeared. Which was weird, considering he had mastered the ‚appearing sober outward despite being so drunk you’ll pass out any second’ -act before the tender age of fifteen. It had always made Lydia just a little bit jealous how he’d never gotten in trouble when she took one sip of wine and face-planted into the nearest flower bed. Then again, Bambi was clumsy as fuck either way and he'd never had had any form brain to mouth filter (ADHD, he claimed, like he wasn't just throwing that around as an excuse whenever he saw fit these days), so maybe people just dismissed it?

It wasn’t like he got emotional or anything else out of character once he was drunk, just a ruder and maybe a bit happier, an emotion he worked very hard to repress whenever he was sober! After all, as Stiles had told her a long time ago, being a emotionally repressed asshole had worked for Mr. Darcy, why shouldn't it for him? And Lydia never got to tell him, how it only worked for Jane Austin’s most famous hero because she wrote it would work for him as Bambi turned around and barfed all over her carpet causing Lydia to cry for two hours straight, ruining her perfectly done eyeliner. At a time when that wasn’t yet the norm!

Ever since then, by the way, Lydia had made a point of never actually getting drunk at parties and forcing Stiles to switch to water after particular point.

Stiles. Who had asked her a question. Who she was currently starring at. Who was using the sink to hold himself upright as he gazed out of the window like the lake was something interesting and beautiful, not a cause for panic and nightmares for him!

“Maybe.” She drawled. “How about you? Drunk enough or do you need to ex some more shots?” Lydia mused, amused by her friend’s ability to stay upright despite his crutch as she carefully dumping every single red solo cup surrounding him, the memory of of Jackson's 'Hell Yeah Lacrosse 2k14' and its following drug scare still fresh in her mind. Because drunk Bambi thought any drink was his!

Pretty soon the only cup around them was the one she knew Stiles himself had set down. For a moment Lydia actually considered letting him drink it, before shrugging and emptying it anyway. Just into into her mouth this time!

Stiles watched her hungrily.

The beer tasted stale.

The boy then nodded in agreement once she sat down her sup, cute and innocent, a lock of usually gelled hair flopping around adorably, sadly, lonely. Lydia had the sudden urge to pinch him.

She didn’t, though. Instead the redhead ran a hand through the brown thickness, fixing it.

Lydia had to wonder if the ghost of her grandmother was still haunting this place. It wouldn't surprise her at all. Her grandma definitely would is she could.

Bambi’s forehead felt sweaty under the lingering touch of her fingers and Lydia frowned.

“You really need to stop drinking so much.” She informed him, sounding exactly like her grandmother would have.

Stiles sighed. His beautiful caramel eyes, usually sparkly and beautiful, the only part of him that never seemed to have gotten the memo about not showing any emotion, seemed dull, unhappy, sad!

“Can we do this some other time?” He asked.

The redhead didn’t want to do that, maybe because her grandmother wouldn’t have and she felt nostalgic, maybe because of his eyes, maybe because they always said they’d talk once everyone sobered but never did and some day there wouldn't be another time, but she also remembered Allison two rooms over, still not even looking at Lydia, while Isaac glared at her enough for both of them and Scott, just sputtering and blushing whenever she was near, with his red eyes that meant he had most definitely cried recently and she let it go slowly, along with a shattered breath.

Stiles and her though, they were different, both broken with charred edges where there should still be smoothness. Sometimes Lydia wondered if he was the closest to a fit, to a soulmate, to someone who’d understand her she’d get and that may be the scariest thought she had ever had, far worse than anything ever done to her and far worse than anything that could possibly still be done to her.

Because she loved him and he loved her, but it was an ugly love, dark and unhealthy, one that destroyed instead of built, one that ruined, an epic story spinning years and continents, ruining lives, shedding blood, destroying! Themselves. Each other. The people around them. Everyone. Everything!

But she still couldn’t get away from him fully, loved him too much, her brother, her friend, her soulmate, kept on being selfish with him, sacrificing his health (and sanity) along with little pieces of herself for this, for their friendship, so that maybe one day they could look at each other and not hate the other person for needing them, nodding when she should be putting her foot down, saying “Okay.” when all she wants to do was scream, shake him until his mind heals as if by fixing him may she was fixing herself as well.

Stiles smiled. It was so wobbly and weak Lydia wanted to change her mind again, until he reached out, whether for a hug or a kiss she wasn't sure yet, was never sure with him, with them, the pull sometimes too strong to be ignored, sometimes so weak it had her wondering if she just imagined it every other time.

When she heard footsteps behind them, interrupting them, it was actually a relieve. Despite the stupid question she could already feel coming!

“Hey there, suga,” new guy with far too greasy hair drawled, leerily giving her a once over, sounding beyond trashed when it was barely ten, “either of you sellin' or usin' themselves an' willin' to share? Cause this party certain … certainl’ …certainly blows!”

Lydia had reacted as soon as she notice someone coming into the room, gazing around Bambi’s terribly broad shoulder to see who came to bother them, but Stiles hadn’t, still half starring out the window / half staring at her. Now so, upon hearing Greasy’s voice he, his face a sudden mask of aggression. It was kind of fascinating to watch how fast he could always go from happy or sad to angry and plain old murderous, sometimes in the blink of an eye. It made Lydia wonder how much of that was always there, always controlled, boiling just bellow the surface of what he let people see.

“No!” He snaped, barely holding on, “We! Don't! And unless you want me to call my dad and get us all into deep trouble, you better stop asking and so should your friends, Donovan! Got me?”

Dudebro took a moment longer to recognize the boy in front of him, his eyes barely focused anymore but once he did he seemed to get just as mad, maybe even more so, and when he answered and every hair on Lydia's body rose to attention.

Yeah, whatevs! Calm the fuck down or I'll make you, Stilinski!” He drawled with eyes that leered at her. Or into her general direction.

Stiles growled low in his throat and he reached forward, already standing a few feet closer to Donovan in the blink of an eye than before. And it was only because she expected just that, that Lydia was able to still catch him before he reached Greasy.

“No, Stiles!” She told him, her hand wrapped around his wrist and squeezing tightly till he reacted, till her looked at her instead, and then she held him, held his gaze, made him look at her as he practically vibrating in his grip.

“Yeah, listen to your girlfriend!” Donovan taunted unnecessarily, making her feel an urge to just let go and see how it played out. Which would be a horrible idea! She was glad when Donovan just leered at her some more before shrugging and sauntering out, wearing a lewd smirk to match the hair.

Silence fell. Stiles visible deflated as they watched him leave but he didn’t say a thing, though he was still visibly agitated, his foot tapping, breathing accelerated. She didn’t have to look to know he was biting his lip, gnawing if she wanted to be accurate.

Neither of them said a word. The only sounds were the music all over the house wafting in through the open doorway and the noise his teeth made nibbling on the soft flesh.

„I could have taken him.“ Stiles finally broke the silence. His voice was soft but angry.

Lydia sighed.

„I know.“ She told him. Then she shrugged. And sighed again. „But there would have been blood and damage and panic and more damage because of the blood and the panic and you know, neither greasy nor you nor I can currently pay for any of this! This is a dying community, remember?“ Those last words were a direct quote from Finstock, their economy teacher. And wished she sounded like that was actually a joke and not the truth.

„You know, maybe we should think about selling?“ Stiles joked, trying to cheer her up, sounded just as unfunny.

Without even looking Lydia reached around and hit him, hard. She wanted to say something as well, when new movement from the doorway caught her attention. A barely familiar blackhead was standing there, just inside, looking awkward and unsure.

For a moment all three of them stood there, staring at each other in surprise, before the girl's mouth opened, uncensored words about not meaning to listen in, so sorry, tumbling out in a ramble.

"You're rambling." Lydia interrupted, hoping it would make her stop. She did indeed shut up, opening and closing her mouth a few times soundlessly.

“You won't repeat any of what you just heard. To anyone!” Lydia demanded then once she was sure all attention was on her, bursting out with the first words her mind came up with. If there was one thing Lydia knew, really knew, it was how fast rumours could spread - would spread no matter what!

The girl opened her mouth once more to reply, but again no sound came out and so she nodded instead, jerky and panic-y, fleeing the scene as fast as possible.

+++

**KIRA**

Currently Taylor Swift was blasted at full volume, singing about what a great night she was having and how everything would be alright if they just kept her by their side, no worries, sweetie, and and Kira wanted to rip off her fucking ears. Not because she disliked Taylor Swift (well, she kind of did, but right now that wasn’t the point) but because she was currently on what had to be the worst date in the history of bad dates - and Kira obviously could judge, considering she was a nearly sixteen! She had an ex. At least. And she watched TV! Especially that! She knew what a good date looked like and it wasn’t _this_!

But the worst part was there wasn’t actually a real reason for her - them - to feel like that! The party was packed, people were having fun and Malia was, well, Malia which as far as Kira was concerned meant she was nice and outgoing and funny and having the time the day, because as far as Kira knew Malia would have the time of day at being in the hospital or at a funeral because she was just so funny in that direct way of hers and nice and outgoing and everyone liked her and she liked everyone so they had to stop every few feet to talk to someone else and Kira might be slightly drunk right now, she wasn’t sure, what she was sure of though, was that she had just lost her train of thought and wow, that light shining on them was really fucking pretty, right? Maybe she should tell Malia about that? Malia. Gorgeous, amazing Malia. Who was currently ruining their date by talking to someone else. Always someone else. That could actually ruin a date, right? Not talking to each other because the music was deafening and there was always someone bumping into them or interrupting them. Malia was totally ruining their date, right?

Except Kira had no illusion it was actually Malia’s fault. She knew full well she herself was the real problem. She just wasn’t interesting enough. Malia was friends with people like Lydia Martin and Stiles and Scott McCall, interesting people, people who knew what to say, cool people!

But then again the date had been horrible from the start. Not even the pick up had been accident free.

Kira had spent most of her day out with Mason trying to find the perfect outfit, but the task turned out to be impossible. Not because Mason was bad at it, he did surprisingly well considering he was a guy and gay and all that jazz (so far all gay men Kira had met turned out to be anything but virtuous when it came to female style. And those who were either liked wearing drag, had sisters or weren't actually gay but really bisexual or something – anything that made them care about the female anatomy and fashion. Most men just couldn’t be bothered), but because Kira was just a disaster. Nothing seemed right, either the clothed didn’t actually fit or they turned out to flirty and open-hearted or made her look like a ten year old on her way to church. At some point Kira was one change of clothes away from bursting into tears and never stopping again.

But just when all hope seemed lost Stiles had shown up next to her like the fairy godmother Kira never knew she had, mumbled something about train wrecks and Lydia not letting him sleep in the Boat House because of them while picking out a white cutoff ringer shirt, some red pleated skirt and a really beautiful camel coloured waterfall blazer which he thrusted at her unceremoniously before disappearing like the fashionable answer to all her prayers and Kira wondered if the recycled air had caused her to have a stroke.

Surprisingly the outfit looked great.

Surprisingly it was actually comfortable and her.

Most surprisingly everything was in her size.

Mason rolled his eyes and said something about Stiles and Lydia always being far too invested in other peoples lives. It could have been cutting if it weren't for the awe in his face and voice.

Sadly the help was a little late. Because by the time Kira got home she was hungry but had less than two hours to get ready – and by less than two hours she meant closer to one of course!

So naturally Kira rushed into the shower, right? And then she blowdried her hair, which took forever because it was super long and thick but also flighty and okay, now she was thinking about cutting it again. As in cutting it super short. Throwing away all her brushes - short (yes, she owned several; yes, they were distributed throughout the house and her purses; yes, she knew that wasn’t normal). Only leaving an inch - short. Having it dry naturally in like ten minutes - short. Ah yes, the dream!

But of course she wouldn't. Because Kira loved her hair and anything shorter than chin length just accentuated the cut of her cheekbones in a weird way. Also Kira? Actually had a really round face! So no cutting for her. Instead Kira got to spent a shit ton of time on styling her hair, only for it to look flat and boring. Fun!

Which meant she was close to crying again. Meaning of course her mother would choose that exact moment to come in and talk about her having to eat something if she were to go out that night. Which Kira wanted to, sure, being famished and all, but also not manageable time wise. So no to food, Mom.

Except her mom had to put up a fight. Because that's what moms’ did!

It took ten minutes, some calming words from her dad and promising to eat some power bars before leaving to get them off her back.

And now Kira had even less time to get ready!

So when Malia arrived a little later Kira's make-up wasn't even close to being perfect, her side braid could fall to pieces any moment, her breath smelled like peanut and she was pretty sure her teeth were coloured from the chocolate milk she just had.

Despite that Malia told her she looked really cute.

Or she would have guessing from the look on her face if it weren't for her noisy parents showing up and doing, well, parent stuff. Like telling her date when Kira had to be home. Asking if Malia had ever drunken alcohol before, and did she have a criminal record? Ever been in an accident? All while hiding their surprise of their daughter’s date being female – you know, the basics.

Kira just wanted to get away as fast as possible.

But she was still Kira. So before that could happen she had to make a complete fool out of herself.

She dropped her bag, couldn't find her shoes, forgot half of her emergency kit including her brush, lipgloss and hair-ties, meaning Kira actually had to make Malia turn the car around and so she could get it; but most importantly before they left Kira got in an argument with her parents about curfew. And then she only managed to extend it by thirty minutes!

Not that Malia seemed to mind any of that, in fact she seemed to have the time of her day chatting with Kira’s dad while she fought her mother, though that may only be because she was Malia and Malia was nice and fun and got along with everyone! Kira may be a little in love. And she'd only known her for a week.

But that would’ve been fine if things went smoothly after that, except they didn’t.

As she had mentioned the party was loud and packed, terrible for talking (but then again she was so nervous she barely got out a whole sentence anyways. Not to mention that really short moment she had tried to flirt and Malia wanted to know if she was sick!). At that wasn’t even mentioning the horrible heat Kira began to notice about forty-five minutes into the party while sipping her second cup of some watered down beer. She felt sweaty and flushed, her skin a tad bit to tight and her head unsuitable for clear thought.

Or maybe, she considered smiling softly at the girl shaking her body a bit along to the music while talking to undesirable #83, it were her date’s clothes? Because Malia looked _fine_ , wearing a black, lacy bralette to accentuate her flat stomach much like her cut off shorts did the length of her legs while a tousles mass of short brown hair framed her face, styled to look wavy in a natural way.

So she looked really hot, right? Except she’d also combined it with a pastel coloured flannel falling open and a pair of combat boots to give it a unique and edgy look.

All in all she looked so much like the action heroin in every single one of Kira's pre-pubescent dreams she wanted to cry – and she would have, if it weren't for the fact that she had spent five minutes simply fixing her eyeliner! Ruining it was simply not acceptable!

Malia stared at her over the rim of her red solo cup, eyes twinkling and Kira's stomach flip flopped dangerously as she wondered where #107 had disappeared to with everything made so much worse by the charming smile she was currently being grazed her with as the red solo cup previously hiding the offending lips lowered. It made Kira finally realise how maybe the other girl wasn’t aware of the disastrousness of their date. And considering how happy she looked and how that made her even more beautiful – Kira decided against telling her. The knowledge of how doomed they truly were would crush her soon enough!

Malia's eyes swayed away from starring intently into Kira's, focusing on something behind her instead. It was pleasant relieve. Breathing came easier without Malia watching her, making her blush, making her breathless and expectant just through their glint.

Instead Kira could now focus on the golden glow of Malia's skin in the warm living room light as her body moved along to the music gracefully, making Kira twitchy. She wanted nothing more than for them to be touching, her hands actually hurting from how much strength Kira needed to hold back.

Something hot and heavy settled in Kira's middle and she swallowed around the big lump in her throat.

Being in love with the brunet in front of her seemed less and less like a joke or the overactive imagination of her drunk brain.

Malia's eyes returned to looking at Kira. She leaned forward a bit, bringing her mouth on ear level and making Kira shiver with every breath taken.

“I'll be right back!” Malia shouted into her ear. “Need to use the restrooms! Can you get us something to drink in the meantime?”

Kira nodded, breathless with panic and something else, something heady and unknown. It made her anxious. She thought about calling her parents, wondering if it was too late to call them; if she could find out the address, if she was a good enough actress to make them think she was sober; if she could just leave and run home, get away from that new feeling building inside her, making her even more breathless and unable to think!

It was much easier to just tell herself Malia wasn’t actually coming back, that she has finally figured out what a loser Kira really was, that they’d never talk again and Kira could just stay as she was, innocent and unsuspecting, pining after her like a lovesick puppy!

Kira found herself staring after her date, lost in thought, as she watched the other girl weave expertly through the people, obviously looking for someone or something, before someone stumbled into Kira from behind, forcing her out of her torpor.

She started moving herself then, through the crowd, toward were she supposed the kitchen must be located. And of course she hadn't meant to listen in once she arrived there (finding it on her first try, ha!), agreeing 100% it was a rude habit to have. But Lydia and Stiles had been talking, seemingly serious and important. Kira hadn't wanted to interrupt them, was all! Not just so she could get some drinks, anyways. She had time after all!

And then that dude came in and yeah, so rude and awful of her, sorry!

“Your rambling.” Lydia stated. Stiles was still glaring at her, his eyes maybe a bit glassy and cross-eyed but still effectively intimidating. His blinking became slower with each time, though.

Still her voice immediately went away, stopping her from saying anything else incriminating, starring at two people the love of her life was probably friends with, ruining any last chance she had had with Malia.

Kira wanted to apologise but no sound made it through her mouth. She closed it instead, feeling uneasy. She found herself looking at Stiles, who leaned against the counter heavily, his wrist being held by Lydia in a vice grip that must be painful, though he kept a perfectly straight face despite it. Yet it was easier to look at him then Lydia and her death-stare.

Finally she got up the courage to look over and Lydia held her gaze for a few seconds before speaking.

“You won't repeat anything you just heard. To anyone!” It was loud in the kitchen with three different kinds of music blasting from three separate doorways and there were a good ten feet dividing them. Lydia's voice was barely above a whisper, yet Kira could feel it in every pore. It made her hightail out of that room like the devil themself was after her.

If school gossip was to be believed maybe they were.

Too late she remembered she had been supposed to get drinks. Kira turned back around, ready to go back to the kitchen, when someone grabbed her arm and it was all she could do not to scream.

“Whoa!“ Malia stated, grinning cheekily at her skittishness, before sobering up again - figuratively!

„From the look on your face and the lack of drinks in your hands I'm gonna assume you've met Lydia – or did you go upstairs? Sorry, should have warned you!” Malia mumbled, leaning just close enough to speak directly Kira’s ear, voice somewhere between suggestive and apologetic.

Kira could feel herself shiver with the way hot breath was ghosting over her sweaty skin. And because of the angle they were Kira couldn’t see the other girl’s face, but Malia's lips brushed her earlobe softly as she talked and Kira thought they may be tilting knowingly. She leaned back a bit to check, looking at the other girl from the corners of her eyes.

Malia's eyes twinkled.

Kira blushed.

“Wanna dance?” Her date asked, voice turning into something barely above a whisper now. And combined with the suggestive note from earlier still in it, the low volume created even more of a feeling of intimacy, raunchy-ness. Kira was just being asked to dance, actually dance instead of just swaying around like they had been for the past hour, yet it felt like so much more, so much deeper. The heaviness Lydia had shocked out of her returned full force.

And even the people walking around them and behind them, bumping into them and brushing against their skins couldn’t ruin the illusion of aloneness Kira found herself in with Malia leaning into her space, her voice somehow the only thing she could hear.

Someone's elbow is rammed into Kira's ribcage as she nodded and the sensation made her suddenly resume breathing. When she hadn’t even noticed stopping!

Kira felt lightheaded.

Malia then took a step backwards without looking, just as uncaringly for the partygoers around them as they are for them. She held out a hand for Kira with a cheeky smile and sparkling eyes and her date took it, feeling happy despite the starting headache and slight dizziness she was beginning to have, as those two cups of watery beer stopped affecting her.

Instead, Kira now had to realise, tomorrow she'd have the worst hangover imaginable what with drinking cheep alcoholics on a mostly empty stomach. But when Malia handed her a filled to the brim shot glass from a leggy brunet with two guys hanging by her side she still downed it no questions asked.

Belatedly Kira recognises her as Allison Argent.

The alcohol burned on its way down, making Kira shudder

People cheered about something.

She smiled at Scott, still a bit buzzed, wondering if she should inform him of the unevenness of his jaw or the fact that his best friend has been considering a life of crime a few moments earlier, while Malia and Allison talked, huged, before the blond boy Kira didn’t yet know pressed red cups in either of their free hands and Kira found herself dragged onwards, toward the music. Or more accurately where the loudest music was being played!

The entrance to the basement was around a corner, slightly hidden from view by clever architecture, a door that looked like wall panelling having to be left open to reveal it, narrow wooden stairs leading downwards in a house that was otherwise stony yet airy, most rooms consisting of so much open space they were practically begging to be filled with people or one may get lost in them.

They clamoured down the stairs, passing people using them for privacy despite the lack of space, only to enter a room at the end that was barely lit and filled with even more bodies doing something resembling dancing. Kira wasn't so sure about some of the people farther from the light. She thought maybe that's where they came when they gave up on finding space to be alone.

Malia led her through the crowd still holding her hand in a death grip, getting them deeper and deeper into the mess of sweaty bodies and intervened limps. Kira thought not for the first time that night she hadn't even been aware there were this many people going to Beacon Hills High – or living in this town at all!

Malia was dragging her along, swaying with each step, completely at ease with herself and everyone surrounding them, half dancing already, her body moving in a way that seemed to come naturally. And when she stopped them in the middle of the floor, somewhere illuminated, her pupils seemed blown, a happy smiles adoring her face. She had never looked more beautiful.

Kira on the other hand felt clumsy as she tried to match her dancing , slowly, unable to find a rhythm. And even when she did her body still moved arrhythmical and choppy, to nervous with all those people surrounding them and Malia watching her to just stop thinking, the shot from earlier long since sweated out.

“What are you doing?” Malia giggled, an amused glint in her eyes.

“Ah, dancing!” Kira gave back, aiming for joking but landing somewhere between desperate and annoyed, feeling rather uncomfortable under the heat of the brunet’s face. She was glad the heat would explain away her blush.

Malia leaned in closer until the were nearly once again touching, her hand still holding onto Kira's, head slightly angled to make up for the remaining height difference not quite fixed by Kira's heels. The first time she had been allowed to wear shoes like that wasn't even that long ago, two years ago to be exact, to one of her many cousins' wedding. And no one had deemed it necessary to prepare her for how much her feet would hurt after just a few short hours beforehand.

But she had been even less prepared for how much they would hurt once she took them off and simply walked barefoot, over asphalt and sharp pebbles, resulting in several bloody blisters and not enough sympathy from her mother.

“That's not dancing.” Malia told her, their lips only inches apart.

Kira actually had to lean back a bit to be able to look Malia into the eyes, forgoing an actual audible answer so she would not have to scream her words, her expression somewhere between nervous panic because she was making a fool out of herself - again - and sarcasm, because, yeah, Sherlock, thanks, she’s aware! It's not like she's trying or anything!

Or at least that was the look she had been aiming at, not that it really came across, not when her whole body was tingling from their closeness, as the dance floor left hardly and space between them with how little space there was and every breath alone was brushing their bodies together. Kira had a hard time breathing like that, when all she wanted to do was reach out and lose her hand in those tousled brown locks while those dark eyes stayed fixed on her, watching her, making her want to do dirty things just to find out how dark they would go.

Malia was laughing freely then, her head thrown back, exposing a long , tan neck and all Kira wanted was to bite it, mark it, own it, crawl under that skin and carve her name into every single bone so everyone who touched Malia after her knew she’d been there as well.

Kira thiought she may be drunker than she thought. She also thought she was by far more possessive than anyone may guess.

It was only when Malia raised the red cup to her lips that she remembered they were both holding more drinks and she put her own to her lips as well hoping it’ll cool her off a bit as their eyes never left each other.

It may be the most erotic thing she’d ever done.

The cool aid turned out to be too warm and sugary for her taste, yet somehow still tasting like vodka and not a lot else. She downed it in one go, though, letting Malia tug it out of her hands and insert it into her own before unceremoniously dropping them on the floor.

Kira's eyes follow the cups sailing down to the floor, feeling like the world has suddenly slowed down a whole lot.

And when her eyes shifted back to Malia's she thought the other girl may be even closer than before. Kira wasn't sure. She felt calm now, though, as if her heart had slowed down along with the world and she thought she knew what would happen next. It's not something she hadn't done a million times before, she thought, thoughts steady and collected.

The first touch was just a brush, a flutter of a kiss, barely registering on her lips, yet making her react immediately, electricity rocking through her body, making it somehow register everywhere. Kira rolled forward even more, getting onto her toes fully, following those lips upwards.

The second touch was deep. Kira's whole body was pressed against Malia's, touching her everywhere else she could even reach her lips. She even buried her hands in those locks, finally, framing Malia’s face with her hands, the hair just as soft as she had imagined.

The third one was actually still part of the second, Malia reacting to Kira biting her lower lip and sucking it into her mouth until she gasped, spreading them apart.

Kira barely refrained from smirking into the kiss.

Malia tasted like cool aid.

“Maybe,” Kira said, voice low and heavy, pulling the other girl lower so she didn’t have to stay on her tiptoes, her hand brushing hair away from Malia’s ear so she could speak into it, “you can teach me.”

“Teach you what?” Malia's voice was wavering and Kira could feel her shiver under her hands, her lips. It definitely made her smirk this time.

“To dance.” She whispered back, like it's a secret, like she wasn’t talking about dancing at all, like that was the last thing on her mind.

Malia nodded eagerly, her hand finally releasing its death grip on Kira's, reaching around to grip Kira’s waist instead, not really pulling her closer (because that wasn't possible) but pressing them together firmer, until air would’ve to divide to get through.

Kira couldn't find pretty words to describe the next kiss, mainly because it wasn't, not by a long shot. There were teeth and tongue brushes, she thought, but mostly just gasping, them breathing each others air, too out of breath already to do much else but too needy to stop touching, until finally, Malia just pressed their lips together, close mouthed and chaste.

“Maybe,” she said voice, calmer than before by a bit, “I'll teach you how to dance another time and we just get out of here for now?”

Kira grinned like it hadn’t been exactly what she meant. “Yeah, that's good, that's... yeah, I can live with that!”

“Good.” Malia smiled back, her hands dropping away from Kira's waist and lower back, grabbing onto her hand instead once again. “I know just the place!”

Malia was was rubbing her thumb across Kira's pulse point while talking and looking up at her, her date thought she’d follow her to the end of the world right now. Maybe. Probably!

When they moved through the bodies again, this time neither felt particularly apologetic and awkward, both using elbows to get forward. Kira thought she may spontaneously combust with need.

The stairs were torture, trying to get past all those couples full on necking in plain sight, way more than when they went down even though it should have been less than twenty minutes since they went down.

They passed Mason as well, half obscured by a tall, blond man and if her skin were able too it would have gone even redder with how he winked at her. She stuck out her tongue, thinking Stiles was the one she had to thank really, anyways!

She refused to tell Malia any of it, though.

The crowd outside had thinned a bit and part of Kira wondered what time it was. Mostly she didn't care, too focused on Malia and everything about to happen to even care about being grounded. She thought she may regret this later. She wasn’t sure. Everything was tingling and hurting like the thin clothes she wore were already to much. It made it hard to think straight!

They got through the living room (or one of the living rooms, she realised, because this wasn’t the room they had been in earlier), past some people barfing in the open bathroom (and she thinks there may be more in the grass outside, but she's not sure) and into the entrance hall, where finally, finally the stairs were waiting for them.

It's weirdly empty, considering this was only a two story house so the only bedrooms had to be up there – or at least that what Kira thought until she noticed the door at the end of those impressive stone steps.

“Ah, Malia?” She tried carefully.

The other girls half turns back, not stopping but still dragging Kira up the stairs. “Something wrong?”

“You think, maybe, that, you know, this is private? Considering there is a door and all...” She trailed off, unsure what to say.

On the one hand, privacy, making out, maybe more, Kira was game!

On the other hand, she didn't know Lydia but she seemed scary and Kira didn't want to have an enemy after only one week in school?

Malia grinned. “Relax, I have a key. Allison gave it to me earlier so Lydia won't mind – she was sober after all!”

Said key was dug from her pants a moment later and Kira watched, as she unlocked the door and dragged Kira through quickly, before slamming it shut again, the lock clicking into place immediately. It would have been scary if she weren’t so turned on.

„It can still be opened from the inside!“ Malia told her with a wink, probably noticing Kira’s shiver and worried look.

She nodded.

There was a hallway in front of them, illuminated only by the light of a few lamps on the walls Malia turned on. The brunet moved forward with purpose and Kira let's herself get dragged along, gazing around the long room without actually noticing any of it, feeling both too drunk and not sober enough.

Her whole body was tingling, itching, and when Malia dragged her into a room, slamming the door and her against it in one smooth move, the slight sting came as a relief. Kira didn't know who kisses who, but their lips were on each other again, any caution or pretence of softness long gone. Those were dirty kisses, ugly, full of teeth and bites, knocking of noses and Kira desperately trying to get some friction with Malia's thigh wedged between her legs. She moved her hands from were they buried themselves in Malia's hair, one off them going down all the way to her butt until she could feel it, pinch it, enjoy finally being able to touch, it while the other finds it's way under Malia’s flannel, to the front, to her boobs, trying to flick a nipple through the lacy fabric of her bra, remembering that one time a guy actually got that far with Kira and hoping it would feel just as great for Malia as it did for her. Kira wanted her to need this just as much as she already did.

“Jesus.” Malia gasped.

Kira smirked happily into the kiss. She felt unhinged, feverish, each touch of Malia's hands on her skin relieving some of it and lighting more fires at the same time. She was already wet and Kira thought if they didn't get naked soon she may spontaneously combust! So when Malia finally reached for the edge of her shirt, pulling it off (because at some point in the last hour Kira lost the jacket and even though she really really loved it, Kira couldn't actually be bothered to care), Kira wanted to cry out of relief.

Of course that's when it hit her. Because she was gonna have sex, Malia was going to have sex with her and that despite how terrible their date had been so far!

“Wait, you wanna have sex with me?” Kira asked out loud because she was stupid like that. “But this date has been nothing but terrible so far! A disaster! My parents! And ... And i forgot something at home! Plus all the other things that went wrong?”

Malia actually laughed at that, surprise and humour weighing on her face. She pulled back a bit to get a better look at Kira’s face, but other than that just stayed close, her hands still touching Kira’s skin, slowly moving up and down her sides in featherlight touches. Distracting touched. Malia's eye glistered with amusement when they finally met Kira's after roaming over her face in contemplation.

“Do tell, hon! I always thought stuff like that only happens in movies.” And then she grinned her adorable grin.

Kira nodded, glad the brunet understood.

“See!“ She said seriously, obviously fully unaware of sarcasm and irony right then.

Malia's snickering got harder because of that. Kira felt torn between thinking the other girl was laughing about her and wanting desperately to join in, be connected to her again. It made her miserable, her inability to grasp why the other girl was laughing.

Her hips were still rocking slowly as if they were disconnected from her mind with a will of their own.

“Why are you laughing?” Kira asked confused.

Malia smiled nicely, seriously.

“Because this date hasn't really been a disaster at all. You’re cute and yes, I wanna have sex with you, okay? I’s explain better, except it's kind of hard to think straight right now with you moving against me, all wet! Cause all I wanna do is get down there, taste you, make you scream, make you beg, okay?” Her voice was hoarse with want, her pupils blown, and with each word Malia came closer again, until the last part when she started kissing down Kira's throat, accentuating each word with a kiss, making her intentions clearer than words ever could.

Kira threw back her head in quiet submission, moaning, offering more skin.

Malia bit her.

Her lips felt cool on Kira's flushed skin and it made gasp.

“Oh!” Kira exclaimed.

“Yeah.” Malia agreed, less emotional, though Kira thought that was due to her being busy with biting strategically along Kira's neck. A task, Kira found rather fascinating, if a bit annoying! Because Malia's lips on her throat meant they weren't anywhere actually fun at the moment! Nothing they were doing required a dark bedroom and that was disappointing.

Kira hips kept moving and she pinched Malia's ass again, trying to get her to move closer, wedging her own leg more firmly between Malia's, pressing against her, trying to get closer, to move this along, get this somewhere. With one hand still buried in the brunets warm boob she pulled her closer, leaning forward herself, angling her head a bit to suck the other nipple she hadn’t yet played with into her mouth as she took up flicking again.

The touch made Malia whine, mouth now dislodged. Her head fell forward until her lips touched skin again and she bit down, somewhere into Kira’s shoulder.

But when Kira tried to get that stupid fabric of Malia’s bra out of the way, her head suddenly snapped up, Malia's hand grabbing her wrist.

“Wait!” She gasped, breathless. “Your drunk, aren't you?” She wanted to know.

It was more of a statement than a question, but Kira nodded anyways hoping to hurry things along. Malia's boobs were moving prettily with each heavy breath and she really, really wanted to lick away those drops of sweat dripping down.

Malia's eyes, though, narrowed.

Kira felt herself get a bit mad about how very in control the other women still seemed.

“How drunk?”

Kira starred up at her, thinking feverishly, trying to find the right answer somewhere in the jumbled mess her mind was right now.

“Drunk drunk?” She decided, honestly.

“Okay.” Malia drawled, pulling away even more. Her movement dislodged Kira's hands still touching skin and she whimpered. “Too drunk to remember what happened here today? Drunk enough to make me the bad guy and for you to hate me?”

Kira's eyes narrowed, trying to understand where Malia was going with this. Then she finally did and it made her laugh, free and joyful. Without thinking about it she slammed her weight into Malia, pushing her against the closest wall and reversing their situation.

“I'm a virgin, Malia.” She informed the girl pressed against the wall, feeling her pulse against her own body distractingly. “But i have been drunk before! I know what I'm doing.”

The brunet bit her lips, looking unsure. Much like Kira's earlier her hips kept rocking down and all she could think was ‚same‘ as she tryed hard to stay with the conversation.

“I really like you.” Malia confessed, smiling in a way akin to shyness.

Kira grinned back, feeling even warmed than before - or maybe just in a different way!

“And i really like you – or I would, if we could move this along! Right now I don’t have a lot of love for you, to be honest! So maybe finish what we started?”

Malia nodded, slowly.

“Please don't hate me!” She asked unhappily.

Kira decided it was time to kiss her again. Talking was overrated anyways, right?

+++

**STILES**

„You know it’s not her fault.“ Stiles mused, picking up where they had left of not to long ago as he handed Allison another pack of unused plastic cups. He’d significantly sobered up in the last few hours, watching people leave the party with a less and less clouded mind. If he was being honest he kind of regretted that. Because while he could always start anew, his head was already throbbing and the thought of alcohol alone made him wrench. So sober it was.

Maybe at least tomorrow wouldn’t be that bad now.

Allison glared at him, probably just as tired of going in a circle as he was while grabbing the cups from him with more force than necessary.

„I’m aware!“ She drawled. „But Scott and I decided to have an open relationship so I can’t really be mad at him now, can I? I just never would have expected my best friend - the person I trust more than anyone else - to take advantage of this!“

He shrugged, kind of over the topic. They’d been over this twice already that night. The girly world was to complicated for him even on days he wasn’t hungover (though, yes, he saw Allison’s point, it was hard to miss! But this was Lyds!), so he decided to just give her a cheeky grin time, taking satisfaction in the knowledge of having done his part in fixing whatever was happening here by reminded Allison of the real problem.

„So get her back the same way!“ He joked, trying to steer the conversation in a new direction.

Allison laughed dryly.

„How? By making out with her boyfriend? She literally did this to get rid of him! It’s not like there’s a dude who means the same thing to her Scott means to me! I mean, Jackson maybe, but I’m not sinking that low! Same goes for Malia, have you seen her new girlfriend? Which leaves … you?“

Stiles nodded slowly mock conteplative.

„Pretty sure it’s me.“ He agreed, completely ignoring the fact that Allison just wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore, busying herself with cleaning as well. Like maybe she had come to the conclusion already, on her own. Like it wasn’t the worst thought she’d ever had.

Allison laughed some more then, uneasy and slightly nervous, looking around the room frantically. Dancing around the topic.

„Oh my god, you just wanna make out with me, Stilinski, admit it! But this will never happen, I’m warning you!“ She joked, voice too high, too uneasy.

Allison looked over slowly then to meet Stiles steady gaze, trained on her with quiet intensity. There was something heavy and heady in the air between them and he blinked, realising just in time his mind just wasn’t clear enough for this, for them, to even discuss the possibility of it with her, just before he could move, could walk around the table and other things separating them to do something they might regret.

So he began to wiggle his eyebrows at her instead until Allison’s face lost the worried edge, until he could see her smile actually reach the eyes and a giggle build. Until they were just Stiles and Allison once more and not whatever else they could be. Something explosive maybe. Implosive. Stiles needed to stop drinking!

„Oh, babe, you know you want to!“ He drawled, over exaggerated and silly.

Allison giggled then. Their eyes met over a puddle of puke and spilled beer on the hardwood floor of the Martin’s lake house and he burst out as well, a companionable moment of hilarity between two friends. And nothing more!

It took them a while to reign themselves in again, to be able to breath again and by the time he could Isaac was edging closer. Whatever had been building between them, whether it was just simple attraction or something deeper actually, had been killed by the mood, once again buried deep inside their minds. As it should be.

The brunet sighed, her dark eyes following Isaac as he avoided a couple making out on a couch, grabbing those empty bottles on the table.

„Just… I don’t know, just, maybe give me a few days, okay? To sort myself out. Work through it all. Accept this. Everything will be fine. Between all of us!“ And if she was referring to anything else no one but them would ever know. Stiles nodded. They were okay, all of them, always would be. Anything else he couldn’t handle. Not like that!

Isaac reached them then, pressing a little too close to Allison, probably for either of their liking, though when Ally did smile at him he thought maybe Lydia had a plan after all. She always did, right? At least he wouldn’t simply dismiss it.

Their gazes met one last time before the door was fully closed again.

We’re okay, he thought, we all are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's kind of unclear and while it'll be discussed next chapter as well:  
> Kira and Malia didn't have sex, considering Kira is a virgin and drunk ...  
> And the ending is a bit weird, I'm sorry, I tried to fix it but ... didn't work :((
> 
> As always:  
> I hope I caught all triggers, if not tell me ... and you know, just comment in general, please? ...

**Author's Note:**

> Also:  
> My Tumblr if you prefer anonymity or just i general ... like if you wanna kick my ass so I speed up this is the place to do it ... Idek ... it's a fun place really! [ here ](http://official-stallison.tumblr.com)  
> (just message me, tag me, talk to me in any way you can imagine, whatever, right now I'm just kinda there...)  
> also if anything I haven't mentioned triggers tell me...  
> 


End file.
